She knew she had to do something to distract her mind from the storm. Perhaps, she should fetch a book from the library. There had been times when she’d been able to escape into another time and place when she had a good tome to read. It just might do the trick this time, she thought.
Brooke grabbed her pink satin wrapper and slipped it on, tying it snugly at her waist. No one could possibly be up this time of night, so she wasn’t worried about her appearance. She shoved her long wavy hair over her shoulders, picked up the pewter, candle holder and stepped out into the hallway.
Carefully, she slipped down the stairs, her bare feet not making a sound. Seeing that no one was up, she continued down the hallway to the library where she pushed open the door just as another lightning bolt struck a tree nearby. She jerked, causing hot wax to splatter on her finger, and the flame sputtered out.
“Damn,” she swore, then quickly placed her sore finger in her mouth, feeling the coating of wax that clung to her finger.
She hadn’t taken more than two more steps into the dark room when someone said, “Such language from a lady. I see you couldn’t sleep either.”
Brooke gasped, startled. Between the storm and Travis to contend with, she was turning into a bag of nerves. “I--I didn’t realize you’d still be up. And I definitely didn’t expect to find you standing here in the dark.”
“It’s hard to sleep when one realizes that this bloody storm has brought the cane harvest to a halt.” Travis turned back to the window where he’d been leaning against the sill.
She could see his hard physique in the window now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. “Come and see how the wind and rain is ruining our harvest,” he said.
“I--I--“
He glanced back at her. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
Hell, yes, she wanted to cry, but she’d never let him see her weakness. As she stepped closer, she could smell the light scent of cherry from his pipe. “I just came down for a book,” she said. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“Now there’s a first,” he said, his tongue was heavy with sarcasm. “It’s your crop, too.”
When she reached the window she could feel the breeze from the open window brush her face with a fine mist of water. It felt good on her flushed skin.
Evidently, Travis had a different opinion of the storm than she did. However, the window was protected by the veranda, she noticed as she peered out the window and no rain came inside. She felt a little safer as she watched the steady downpour. “Are all your storms like this?”
“Sometimes,” Travis said, leaning against the window frame. He placed his pipe on the ledge and picked up a glass. She could detect the brandy on his breath before she noticed his glass. She wondered how long he’d been drinking.
Travis saw the direction of her gaze and held the brandy snifter up, offering it to her. “It will warm you.”
To his surprised, Brooke took it from him and sipped the reddish-brown liquid. She handed the snifter back to him and murmured her thanks.
A flash of lightning provided enough light so he could see a glistening drop of brandy lingering on her bottom lip. Before he could reach out and remove it, Brandy flicked out her tongue and stole the temptation from him.
Outwardly, he remained expressionless.
Inwardly, his blood raced.
Travis hadn’t believed his eyes when he’d first turned and found her standing in his study wearing nothing more than a wrapper covering her. A pink silk wrapper that was cut low in front provided him a good glimpse of creamy skin. The candlelight made her flesh appear white as alabaster as if she were a perfect statue instead of a thorn in his side.
Instead of squealing and tuning away from him like a virgin, she hadn’t seemed the least bit embarrassed about her lack of clothing. Of course, Brooke was a widow, so she would know a man’s touch. But she should have some sense of modesty.
The question plaguing his mind was did she like a man’s touch? Or did she lie there like a statue in bed and simply endure? Had she loved her husband?
Travis’s jaw tightened at the thought. And of course, it irritated him that he’d care. He needed to get his mind on something other than the luscious body before him. He felt a prickle of uneasiness inside him, instead of the numb feeling he wanted so much to achieve.
“Did the brandy help?” He asked, detecting a strange tone in his voice. He hoped Brooke did not notice.
“Yes,” she said, looking out the window instead of at him. She was too damn close, Travis thought. He could smell her freshly-washed skin. Then she added, “It warmed me.”
Well, it sure wasn’t the brandy that was warming him, Travis thought ruefully. He was on fire with desire that needed to be extinguished. “Would you care for more? I have several bottles.”
She laughed softly before looking at him. “That would be one way to get through the storm,” she quipped and took another sip of brandy. “I’ve never thought of drinking as a solution.” Travis liked the sound of her silky, smooth voice, even though he detected that she was a little nervous.
Lightning struck somewhere close to the veranda. Brooke jumped back, bumping into him. She gasped at the contact. “I’m so sorry,” she said and tried to move away.
Travis caught her and felt her tremble. He placed the brandy snifter on the window ledge and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You are shaking. You’re afraid, aren’t you?” he asked gently.
Brooke nodded as she pressed her face against his chest. “Go ahead and tell me I’m a coward. And if a storm frightens me, how do I expect to run a plantation.”
“The storm can’t hurt you in here,” he murmured into her fragrant hair as he tried to reassure her. “I like storms.”
“You would,” Brooke said with a half-laugh, and he smiled.
He hadn’t noticed until now that Brooke was the perfect height, fitting nicely into his arms. He also hadn’t noticed how delicate she was until he had her soft body pressed against him.
Thunder rumbled. She clutched him tighter. Somehow, they were no longer enemies. They had become simply two people in need of comfort. And he had to admit she brought out a streak of tenderness and protectiveness within him that he’d never known existed.
“Shh,” he whispered.
After several moments she murmured, “I’m such a coward.”
Travis lifted her chin. “I don’t think so. Tell me why you are afraid?”
“I don’t want to bother you,” she said, her face resting against his chest.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I considered it a bother.”
“I’m not really sur--“ Brooke paused as the thunder rumbled angrily through the sky. “sure,” she continued. “But I think it started when I was young. My mother sent me to boarding school when I was five. She said it was the best thing for me. But I didn’t want to go. I was afraid and wanted to stay with her, however, she wouldn’t listen.”
“What about your father?”
“Remember I told you that we were a lot alike,” she reminded him of their conversation at the stables. “The difference being that you got to meet your father, I never did. He paid for my school and clothing, and I suppose I should be grateful for that.” She laughed, a bitter chuckle.
Travis tightened his arms. A gust of wind whipped around them, bringing a sprinkling mist of rain and, for a moment there was silence. He felt as though he’d been slugged in the stomach. God help him, he knew exactly how she felt. “I’m sorry I interrupted,” he said in a whisper. “Finish your story about the storm.”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
He had his cheek resting on the top of her head and he brushed his lips against her hair. “Yes,” he said simply.
“The first day she left me it was raining. I think I forgot to say that earlier. Funny, nothing important ever seemed to happen when the sun is shining. Then later, when I was twelve, my mother returned to see how I was faring in school. Perh
aps, she was curious. I’m not sure. But she did tell me things about herself, and when I asked if I could go with her she said no. At least, she seemed sad that she couldn’t take me. I do remember sadness in her face when she refused. It was stormy that day, too. She asked if I’d walk with her to the door, and I did. When we opened the heavy oak doors, a gust of wind blew in and got us both wet. She laughed, and I remember what a pretty sound it was.
“I stood in the doorway watching her walk away, the wind whipping her cloak to the side. A bolt of lightning struck in the distance, causing me to jump back and shut my eyes just like I always did when we were having a storm.
“When I opened my eyes again, she was gone.”
“You were young,” Travis pointed out. “I can see how you would have been frightened, but surely you got to go home on holiday visits to see your mother.”
“No. I never returned home again. All my holidays were spent at Spencer Girls School, and I only saw my mother but one other time.”
“When was that?”
“I had just turned sixteen, and she came to school to visit. She said she wanted to see me, and see how I had turned out. Then she told me about my father. It seemed the lord duke had a wife.” Brooke drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I can see it all as if it were yesterday,” she said in a small voice.
Travis said nothing because he didn’t want to interrupt, but he felt her anguish.
“My mother stood up to leave, but before she did she reached over to kiss me on the cheek. I drew back. After all that time, the woman was a stranger to me. I felt nothing for her.”
“She said she understood, and then she reached for her cloak and fastened the frog under her throat. Believe it or not, it was yet another stormy day.
“I walked with Mother to the front door and opened it for her. She tugged the hood of her cloak over her hair. Just before she stepped outside into the rain, she reached into her purse and handed me a slip of paper, and told me if I ever needed help, this woman would help me.
“I thanked her and watched her walk out into the rain, and somehow I knew she was walking out of my life. The thunder rumbled and I trembled just like I always had. But I was determined not to move this time.
“Out of nowhere a bolt of lightning struck the oak tree next to the walkway. It exploded. I screamed to warn her. But it was too late. The tree fell, crushing my mother beneath its weight,” Brooke said, her voice so soft that Travis strained to hear what she was saying.
“I ran to her,” Brooke said in a dead sounding voice. “I was too late, though. All I could do was hold her head in my lap until somebody came to drag me out of the storm. But before I left I bent down and kissed her on the cheek.”
Travis didn’t know what to say. Most women would have been in tears, but Brooke hadn’t made the first whimper. What kind of woman was she -- not the pampered lady he’d first thought her to be.
Gently, he lifted Brooke’s chin. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as he gazed into them.
Travis told himself to walk away.
He told himself to leave her.
But found he wasn’t too good at listening to his own advice. What was it about Brooke that made him burn . . . made him want to touch her . . . made him want to taste her? He could usually get any woman out of his system, but this one was different. Maybe if he kissed her, it would frighten her enough to leave and also satisfy his curiosity.
Unable to resist her poignant sweetness any longer, Travis lowered his mouth to Brooke’s. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and her arms wound inside his jacket and around his back. She yielded with a sigh of surrender as he moved his mouth over hers and devoured its softness. God, she was sweet.
Vaguely, he could hear the distant thunder and the rain splattering as it hit the railing of the veranda, but his thoughts were more on the storm that brewed within him than the storm outside.
Brooke was caught off balance. She usually knew when a man was going to kiss her and from there everything would be planned. But for just a moment, before Travis kissed her, his blue eyes had been so warm and understanding as his gaze drifted down to her lips. The feeling stunned her, sweeping all logical thoughts completely from her mind.
His kiss was tender, more so than she could have imagined coming from a powerful man such as Travis. He was so gentle with her that she wanted to cry. Brooke had never felt so out of control in her life as a jolt of wild desire shot all over her body.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt like a virgin as if she’d never made love before. He parted her lips, and she moaned with pleasure. She touched her tongue to his and a delicious shiver slid down her spine.
Travis jerked back for a just a moment. “Damnation,” he swore. Then he crushed her to him again, taking her mouth with urgent hunger. He brushed his hand down the length of her back until it came to rest on her hips.
Brooke had him where she wanted him, and he had definitely made her want him as well. She wasn’t used to that.
But somehow over the past two years she seemed to have forgotten everything she knew about handling me. Or maybe she’d lost the desire to seduce a man.
Maybe she wanted more.
Travis had, in the short time she been here, managed to turn her head to mush.
Her body was molded to his and she could feel how much he wanted her. All she had to do was make a move . . . to encourage him . . . but she couldn’t. She couldn’t!
She shifted, and Travis’s mouth slipped lower. He placed kisses along the curve of her neck, delectable kisses that were driving her wild. The reasonable side of her head told Brooke to reach out and take what she needed, but some little voice, one she’d never heard before, kept saying “I want more.” She pushed Travis away, surprising herself as much as she did him.
The change in his face was immediate and he quickly regained control of his body.
Travis had never held anyone like this woman. She fit him much too well. His chest tightened and ached as his senses returned to him. At least her senses had returned first. “This was a mistake,” Travis rasped out. “I’m sorry, but I’m marrying someone else.”
Brooke stared at Travis, knowing she’d lost her mind. She had had him right where she wanted him, yet she had stopped, and she had no idea why. There was nothing left to do or say, so she left him.
Damn her conscious for interfering.
She didn’t remember her steps as she walked out of the room. The only thing she could hear screaming in her head was why.
Brooke could only hope to God her sanity returned soon.
Chapter Eight
What in the hell was the matter with her?
That one question had been raging through Brooke’s mind over and over again. Last night she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned about seduction. She knew how to turn off her emotions – she’d taught herself to feel nothing years ago and it had worked perfectly all this time. It was the only way she had survived.
After dismissing Mille Anne, Brooke wandered over to the window although she had no intention of looking out. She just needed a few minutes to herself. Glancing out the window, she could see some of the servants picking up the debris from last night's storm. The wind might have ceased, but the storm inside Brooke still raged with all its fury.
She closed her eyes and dew in a deep, wistful breath, feeling the magical kisses she’d shared with Travis last night. She could still taste them.
Brooke had kissed many men before, but they’d been sloppy, wet kisses or mere pecks. Travis made her feel things she’d never felt before. She'd never imagined it possible to feel deep desires, not only for lust but for some unknown emotion she couldn't put a name to.
That was the problem.
She’d lost control of the situation. And now she didn't know what to do.
Brooke closed her eyes again and shook her head. How could she be so stupid? The first lesson she’d learned years ago was never to let any man get to close. Never let them know what you ar
e thinking, and always keep then at arm’s length. It was the one rule she always followed.
That way, when the time came, she could walk away and never look back with regrets. A few admirers had begged her to stay with them, but she’d pushed them aside. She had done everything on her own terms for so long that she truly believed she had ice in her veins.
Brooke could remember a certain Russian prince who’d written to her. “I’ve been traveling in my carriage through the Ural mountains with your portrait on the seat opposite me. I long to see you, Brooke. Please come back to me.” She could have had anything she wanted from the prince, but she never went back to him.
Maybe she did have ice in her veins.
So what had happened to cause the ice to melt?
She didn’t even like Travis. She couldn't possibly like the man . . . or did she? No, she didn’t like him, she told herself firmly. It should be easy to brush him off. She’d just slipped off course and forgotten the business side of the affair. Perhaps, she needed to have a talk with Travis. Then she could calmly point out that they were both business people, and being such, they should be able to tackle their situation with a decision that would benefit them both.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door, interrupting her thoughts. “Come in,” Brooke said, turning toward the door.
“Good morning,” Eliza said as she bounced into the room. “We missed you at breakfast.”
“I wasn’t very hungry this morning,” Brooke said, knowing the child spoke for herself. “Is your uncle still downstairs?”
“No. Uncle Travis went to see how much damage the storm did last night. I can’t believe I slept through the whole thing.”
“I can’t believe you did either. It kept me up most of the night,” Brooke admitted. She still felt unnerved by the ferocity of the storm, but didn’t feel it necessary to go into details with the child.
Southern Seduction Page 9
